Reborn
by DaLintyMan
Summary: This will probably be a series of one shots to improve my writing. After the Vanu are defeated, a new enemy will arrive.


Well, here's the start of a possible one-shot series.

"In a bold move, the leaders of the Terran Republic have enacted sweeping reforms in areas such as social freedoms and released some restrictions on their citizens. The President warned that change was coming, but it would have to be slow and carefully done. While the New Conglomerate bands have been slow to react, they have agreed to end overt hostilities, and to focus on the Vanu technophiles. In the meantime, several celebrities have-"

"With the capture of the Dread Heights Rebirthing Facility, the Vanu threat is at an end, and their technology is being researched, or disposed of. Now, it remains to be seen as to whether the Republic and Conglomerate will stay at peace."

"All of Auraxis is stunned, as the three leaders of the New Conglomerate and the President of the Terran Republic sign a treaty ending the rebellion. Now, humanity can forge its own ways to the stars."

"An unknown ship has been detected approaching the planet. This has sparked a massive debate, and much concern, over whether this is a peaceful contact from Earth, or a possibly hostile, ALIEN, race. All armies have been re-activated, and put on high alert. Citizens are to remain in their dwellings, and remain calm."

Samuel Rider racked the slide on his NC1 Gauss Rifle, glaring at the red and black soldiers to his left. Even though peace had been officially declared five years ago, animosity towards the Republic had stayed from some of their higher profile actions. Even worse, all of the soldiers killed during the war were just Reborn, so possibly meeting the man who had killed a family member, who weren't Reborn, or even yourself, was entirely possible. The man he had been spitting on his glare shifted in his seat, just enough to show the knife on his hip. Samuel turned back to face forwards, a scowl on his face.

The Galaxy transport had been redesigned after the war, reflecting on both the empires tendencies, with heavy armor and rapid-fire flak turrets. The internal bay had been separated by an extra floor, which doubled the troop capacity, while forming somewhat of a hump on its back. Surrounding the Galaxy Samuel was in were eight Mosquito and four Reaver fighters.

As Samuel listened to the fighter pilot's channel, he heard one mention a ship entering atmosphere.

"Hey, bud. Could you repeat that? The ship is entering atmo?" Samuel asked inquisitively.

"Yup, 'parently, two others jumped it, and now it's burning in. The others have left already." The cool tone of the pilot shocked Samuel.

"We got O'Brian for a MILK RUN? Oh, top NC ace of all time, please down some aliens for me."

The pilot chuckled.

Inside the Burning Wreck

Sparks pinged off shattered consoles and broken bodies. The pungent smell of burned plastic assaulted his nostrils, causing him to jerk back reflexively. Feeling his surroundings, he moved to crawl away from the site, when he sensed several crew moving towards him.

As darkness closed in, he felt the smooth plastoid of the clone's armor on his arms.

Back on the Galaxy, Now Three Miles From the Crash Site

Samuel whistled at the sight of the crashed vessel. He found the projection off the dorsal side odd, because who splits the bridge into two parts? A red and white paint scheme was now covered in black soot, or simply scoured off the hull.

A small glint of white caught Samuel's eye, inside the split upper hull.

"Sergeant, I've got a lock on the gunship!"

"No peaceful people send military units to check out a Republic wreck site. Must be Seppie, so take it down!"

Then the transport lurched sideways.

"Incoming missile, brace for impact!" A dull thud echoed through the hull, and all the soldiers in the Galaxy gasped, as a Reaver that had green stripes painted down both wings had just rolled over the Galaxy and shot down the missile with a precise burst of cannon fire.

The same cool voice came over the transports PA system.

"I'll take my drinks at Doby's, three every Sunday, gents."

A sudden bolt of blue energy spattered off the Galaxy's hull, followed by dozens more. The transports escort of Mosquitoes leapt forwards, spitting 14mm explosive rounds into the breach, shredding white armored soldiers. The return fire dropped as the unknowns took cover behind wreckage and equipment, which allowed the Galaxy to enter the area unmolested.

Samuel was the third one out the hatch in the rear, and was firing his NC1 in a suppression pattern as he dashed to cover. One of the white soldiers popped up ahead of him and fired twice, the shots streaking by in Samuel's wake. The return fire from Samuel's NC1 put three 5.56mm bullets through it's helmet, sending a spray of red across the deck behind it. As Samuel slid into cover, his mag clicked dry. Hurriedly dropping the magazine, he slammed a new one home and pulled the charger, before looking up as a Terran Republic Infiltrator shimmered into existence beside him.

"You know, the Vanu were tougher than these jokers." Samuel did a double take as he realized that the Infiltrator was talking. The woman gave him a thumbs up, before disappearing again.

Abruptly, the pew-pew noises of the enemies weapons fell silent. Samuel rose out of cover slowly, to see three more Galaxies dropping through the hangar entrance, and disgorge another wave of troops, mainly Heavy Assault, with Medics and two MAXs supporting them. Samuel looked over his shoulder at his jetpack, then back at the LMGs and armor of the Heavies.

"I'll stick with this setup." Then, on an open channel, ordered "Heavy Assaults, move into the ship and head towards the bridge. Medics, follow them, while the MAXs stay here and unload a can of whoopin' on whatever tries to attack the landing zone."

Scratch was one of the newest batches of clones, and hadn't fought on an actual battlefield.

Which was why these new enemies terrified him. They were nothing like what he had been trained to fight. Beside him, his brothers were efficiently preparing to meet the boarders. Scratch reviewed the information they had gotten in his head. The blue and yellow ones used heavier calibers in their slugthrowers, while the red and black ones had weapons with a higher rate of fire. This matched what had been seen of their combat doctrines, really. The red and black ones had overall faster vehicles, especially those kriffing four wheeled scouts. The blue and gold liked shock and awe, dealing heavy damage in the opening of a fight, and from short range.

He also watched the security footage of the attack. The first inkling of something wrong, that the camera showed (it didn't have a working sound pickup), was a clone hefting a rocket launcher at the open hangar doors, turning his head slightly as he addressed the sergeant near him. A bright flare of light came from the back of the tube, as the clones in the hangar ran to cover. A sudden burst of blue tracers cut through the air outside the hangar doors, quickly followed by eight red and black fighters. The slim craft rotated, sweeping red tracers streams across any uncovered clones. Scratch winced again, even having seen the video before; he still was repulsed at the level of carnage present, as bodies were cut in half by the explosive slugs.

Then, the transport landed, and the soldiers poured out of a ramp on the back. Scratch was still baffled at why humans would fight on the Seppies side, but there they were. Out of the forty men, six of the lighter varieties were downed, four of them the reds. Clones died in a fighting retreat, even as two more of the fat transports landed.

Scratch felt someone hit him on the shoulder, than heard metallic footsteps, unlike the softer impacts of plastoid. He disabled the vidfeed, then raised his DC-15 rifle and aimed it over the barricade.

Before he saw any of the advancing enemies, he felt a prickling feeling over his back, like someone was watching them. Scratch shifted in place, before hearing a hurk and a sizzling sound. He turned, to see one of the lightest variants the reds had, turning from the body of Scratch's sergeant, holding a red covered knife and already aiming a pistol at the men next to Scratch.

Well, kriff. The weapon boomed, and the bullet hit a clone in the neck, before the advancing unit appeared in the corridor, and opened fire. Scratch felt a heavy impact on his head, before everything went black.


End file.
